The Call of Sento
by iceangelmkx
Summary: One-shot. A young swordsman succumbs to pride when an elderly man approaches and tells him of an ancient sword that would reflect his greatness. Little did the swordsman realize that the journey to seek the sword would forever change him.


**A/N: The one-shot below was initially part of a story I was writing called, 'The Path of Fate.' However, due to my own recent lack of interest in the story, I have decided to cancel it. Thing is, I really loved how the first chapter of the story came out and, because I don't want it to go to waste, I made the decision to present it as a stand-alone one-shot. I say all of this just in case you wonder why the story seemed familiar.**

* * *

The wind blew lightly as an elderly man walked through a path, supporting himself by his tall walking stick. Gazing up towards the sky, he noticed that the sun was starting to descent downward, and he guessed that it would be dark within the next hour or so. He had a particular destination in mind… a small isolated village he was told earlier was in the direction he was heading towards. His feet, only protected by a pair of wooden sandals, were somewhat sore, but it was nothing that he wasn't used to.

'_Perhaps another half hour will do,'_ the elderly man thought to himself. '_Maybe I will be able to see the village by then._' With that in mind, he continued forward.

By then, the wind had picked up, whistling into the elder's ears. He narrowed his eyes, doing his best to keep the wind out of them. His orange robes blew in front of him, and he was grateful to be fully bald in this situation rather than possessing long hair. It would have annoyed him, he imagined.

After going up a small hill, the elderly man saw some lights in the distance. By then, the sun was gone, but it still left half the sky in some light, and it would only be a matter of time before it was nothing but a dark blanket filled with stars. He then noticed that the lights near the village seemed to be gathering, and the old man realized that they were people holding torches. From his point of view, they seemed to be gathering in a circle as though they were about to watch something.

'_Perhaps I arrived at an interesting time,_' he guessed as he proceeded to walk forward.

A few minutes later, the elderly man reached the crowd. Wanting to get a better look at what was going on, he gently pushed his way through, and the people obliged. It seemed as though these particular people had respect for their elders.

Soon, he reached the front of the crowd, and the old man was able to get a much better look at what was going on in the circle. Immediately, he noticed two very large men standing next to each other. One held a broadsword, the other held an axe. Both of their faces were written with determination as the two stared at the individual standing some twenty feet away in front of them.

The elderly man turned to that individual, a young man whom he guessed was in his early twenties. He held two old-looking katanas, one in each hand. Although he stood just over six feet tall and was well-leaned, he looked dwarfed compared to the two hulking opponents he was about to face.

The bigger man with the sword gripped tightly on the weapon's hilt with both hands. "You're going to regret challenging the both of us!" he called out.

"Consider this your death warrant," the one with the axe added.

In the crowd, the elder man noted a small smirk that crept up the corners of the young man's lips. "We'll see about that," he replied with conviction.

'_He's confident,_' the old man thought in his mind. '_Perhaps he's_ too_ confident._ _It's almost per-_'

His thoughts were suddenly cut off as the two larger men stepped forward, ready to fight. The younger man tightened his grip on the pair of katanas in his hands and suddenly sprinted forward.

The moment had happened very rapidly, and only the elderly man standing in front of the crowd realized what had transpired. The young man had planned his move in his head, perhaps long before the old man showed up. With his head bowed down, he ran forward in fast speed, taking the opportunity to move just as his two opponents were ready to go, barely getting the chance to raise their own weapons. He managed to get in between them, ducking underneath their muscular arms. Then, with only quick swift, he used each katana to slice them both through their bellies at once.

Blood spewed out as a shocked looks came over the two hulking men. Both were confident that they would defeated their younger and much smaller opponent, only to meet death themselves just as that idea was completed in their minds.

Once it was over, the young man stopped in his tracks, kneeling down on one knee and not bothering to turn around to see the damage that he just made. He already knew… it wasn't the first time he defeated an opponent like this, though the others before them gave him more of a fight than these two did.

The hulking man with the axe collapsed first. The one with the sword stood for another moment. "How… could…" was all he was able to say before falling forward with death taking his life at that moment.

The younger man stood back up as the crowd began to disperse. Only the elderly man stood in his spot and he waited until most of the crowd was far enough to be out of ear shot.

The swordsman seemed to have waited for the crowd to leave as well, and he was just beginning to depart before he heard soft footsteps behind him. He stopped in his tracks, having a feeling that this person was personally approaching him for whatever reason. Perhaps another challenger was coming forward.

"You've done well, I'm very impressed," the elderly man said. "You're quite skilled for one as young as yourself."

The young swordsman turned to him. "I've had better," he admitted. "The one with the sword… I was told before coming here that he was a master swordsman and was undefeated." He laughed dryly at that. "Perhaps I was told wrong."

Seeing the swordsman close up, the old man noted that he didn't look as though he was from this part of the world. However, his accent told him that he was indeed a native of Japan. Though the young man had some Asian traits including black hair that hung just above his ears, the elder also noted some prominent European features which comprised of blue eyes.

"Maybe," the elderly man replied. "But even so, not many people your age are able to take on an opponent that big, let alone two at once."

A smirk that was certainly filled with pride came over the swordsman's face. "That is true."

The old man scanned his dark eyes at the two swords in the young man's hands. Both were still stained with the blood of his recent opponents. "I can only guess that you've had those two weapons of yours for quite some time. If I hadn't known better, I'd say both were older than you."

"They are," the younger male nodded, holding up the katana in his right hand. "I don't know how old they are exactly, but to me, it doesn't matter as long as it gets the job done."

"I see. Let me ask you something. You look to be a traveler, one who challenges other swordsmen such as yourself, am I correct?"

The swordsman nodded before the older man proceeded. "What is your motivation? What made you decide to go around the world seeking to challenge other swordsmen? Redemption? Lost knowledge? Or perhaps you are seeking vengeance on one swordsman in particular?"

There was a brief silence between them, and the elder male had noted a hint of what looked like irritation in the young man. He guessed that the warrior wasn't used to holding a conversation with anyone, let alone an old stranger asking him questions about his own life choices.

Soon, the younger man answered. "I simply wish to be the best."

"That's all?"

"It's all I live for."

The older man scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I see. If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?"

"Why do you want to know?" the warrior asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Well, I've been seeking a young swordsman to help me in my journey to the mountains of China. I only wish to know whether or not the legend of Sento is true. Out there is an old place of worship called the House of Pekara. Legend has it that within the holy place is what some had called the Well of Souls. Inside that well is Sento."

Although the swordsman wasn't exactly interested in whatever this legend was that the elderly man was fascinated by, he realized that the older male had a reason to want his help. "Who is Sento?" he asked.

"Sento is not a 'who.' It is an ancient sword. All that is known about it is that it was held by many great warriors over the centuries."

"Do you wish to seek the sword for yourself?" the warrior asked.

"No, I only wish to merely discover if the sword's existence is true. At my age, there is not too much fight left in me, so I have no use for the sword. There are quite a few legends I had sought out, some with success, some with failure. This would be my last journey; to find out if the sword is real. Once I know the truth, then I can return to my home and live out the rest of my days."

"Why do you need my help if that's all you want to do?"

"I'm an old man. Traveling has become weary for me the older I get. That fact alone has made me realize that this would be my final journey to find out Sento's existence. Once I had discovered the location of the House of Pekara, I knew that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to travel there.

"I need a traveling companion, a young one who can withstand the journey. I also seek a swordsman for one reason… if the journey is successful and Sento really does exist, then it is yours to keep as a reward for helping me."

Hearing this, the young warrior looked down at the two swords in his hands. "Thank you, but I'm not interested," he said after a few seconds of silence. "Besides, I have no need for another sword."

"Ah, but you must remember," the old man replied. "Sento is an ancient sword known to have been wielded by many great warriors for hundreds of years. I imagine that the sword reflected their greatness whenever they marched to battle."

"I can also imagine that sword is much older than the two I have now," the younger male mentioned. "What good would that do?"

"Perhaps you are right. However, what if it was still in good condition? If so, imagine what it could do for you, especially in the future as you seek to become the best swordsman in the world. A swordsman should always have a sword that reflects his greatness, especially to those he faces in battle."

The young man was a bit annoyed by his persistence. However, the last sentence made him think for a minute. Perhaps the old man was right and that this ancient sword could reflect his skills and superiority. He knew that he was the best, but there were still other swordsmen in the world he wished to challenge. If he indeed had this sword in his hand, if its existence was real, he could only imagine the reputation it would give him.

The young warrior finally nodded. "How long is the journey?" he asked.

"About a week," the old man answered. "But I have a feeling that it will be worth it in the end."

"You better be right. However, if you're correct about this sword and it does do well for me, I'll be indebted to you."

"And I would feel the same to you for accompanying me on this journey. Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself. My name is Song."

The swordsman nodded. "Kenshi."

"Ah, a fitting name for one such as yourself. We'll rest for tonight and begin our journey in the morning. As I said before, I have a feeling that this trip will be worth it."

* * *

The many days of traveling felt long, but it was almost worth it by the time Song and Kenshi reached the House of Pekara, a place surrounded by mountains and lush trees. The entire sky was covered with heavy dark clouds and there was a wind that blew heavily around the area.

The two travelers were mainly silent throughout the journey. Song mostly started the conversations, and the two would talk about either Kenshi's past opponents or many of the old man's traveling days. At one point, Song asked the younger man where he obtained his two swords. It turned out that one of them he took for himself after defeating his first opponent in a duel. All he mentioned about the second one was that it was a gift and nothing more.

The place was hundreds of years old, Kenshi guessed as he stared at the holy place. A majority of it was gone with only the support beams remaining. A single tree, about a hundred years old, had since grown in the middle of it. One part of the structure still remained, an altar, he realized. A single statue, about thirty feet tall, was still mostly intact. It was of a figure with long hair sitting in a throne, holding a staff with a large falcon at the end of it with one hand, and a double-edged sword in the other. A large amount of moss had since gathered over it. Behind the statue, a large, stained glass window was left untouched and unbroken even after many years of abandonment.

As they entered the grounds, Kenshi suddenly felt a chill run up his spine. For a moment, he thought it was because the place felt strange to him. However, he quickly dismissed it as just being cold.

"You mentioned a few times that this place contained the Well of Souls," Kenshi reminded his traveling companion. "I don't see a well around here."

"I've been told there's a labyrinth below this place," Song mentioned. "My guess is that the well is there. At the moment, it's just a matter of finding the entrance."

With that in mind, Kenshi went ahead and began looking around the area. Song slowly followed him, guiding himself with his walking stick. The younger man went over towards where the altar was located.

It was a few minutes later before, on the left side of the altar, Kenshi noticed a door that was partially opened. Once he reached it, he pushed the door more open and peered inside. He noted the spiral stairs that were going downward, but noted that it was pitch black below.

"I think I found it," he said to Song. "But we'll need some light."

Song looked around for a moment before spotting an unlit torch just next to the door. He reached for it, grabbing the hilt with his free hand before taking it off its mantle. "Do you still have those matches?" the old man asked.

Kenshi nodded as he reached into one of his traveling pouches that were connected to a belt. It didn't take him long to retrieve a match, taking a moment to light it up before he assisted Song in igniting the torch. Soon, the small fire sprung to life, making a few cracking sounds.

"I'm confident now that we'll see much better," Song mentioned.

"Likewise," Kenshi agreed. He then went inside with Song following him.

As they went down the spiraling stairs to the labyrinth, the strange feeling that Kenshi had felt moments ago came back to him. He couldn't quite describe it in his mind, but it left a somewhat unsettling feeling within him. The fact that there was an odd smell that reminded him of long-burned wood and ash to accompany it didn't help the matter. However, the thought of the ancient sword in his hand helped him to push onward.

'_That old man better be right about this legend,_' he thought.

Once they reached the bottom, the two travelers realized that they were about to get themselves in a bit of a maze. They noted a few corners to turn to, but neither one of them were willing to hesitate yet, not after coming this far. Along the way, they noticed a few relics and countless crypts belonging to those laid buried here.

It was a half hour later that they turned to a particular corner. A few feet away stood a stoned, well-like structure, its shape forming an elongated circle. On top of where the hole would be contained what looked like a heavy stone.

"This must be it," Kenshi said as he approached the structure. "The Well of Souls."

"It must be," Song replied. "And if the stories are true, then this is where Sento is located. All that needs to be done now is to lift the stone. Let's just hope that the well is not too deep."

Kenshi approached the well, placing his two swords down on the ground. Song noted an empty mantle on the wall nearby and placed the lit torch onto it to light the area up better. As the young man stared at the stone, he realized that it would take quite an effort to pry it off. However, thinking about the reputation the sword may give him upon retrieving it, he knew that it may be worth it.

"I would help," Song mentioned. "But my strength is not what it used to be."

Kenshi nodded before placing his hands on the stone. With all of the strength he had, he pushed the stone, but it didn't budge right away. With a grunt, he tried again, this time moving it a couple of inches. The swordsman took a deep breath before starting the process again. Already, he felt a small bead of sweat covering his forehead. After a couple of more pushes, his arms were beginning to ache, but he wasn't about to give up yet. With another grunt, he gave another big push.

Finally, he managed to get the stone halfway off the edge, just enough room to peer into its depths, and reach in if he had to. Taking a quick breather, Kenshi stretched his arms in an attempted to get rid of the soreness that developed in his muscles.

Song smirked a little. "Tired?" he asked.

Using his forearm, Kenshi wiped away the sweat that formed on his forehead. "This better be worth it," he said before turning around to face the well. The small light that the torch provided was able to brightened part of the well.

And there, with the steel gleaming in that light, was a katana lying alone in the well. Kenshi found himself somewhat fascinated by the weapon. He had expected it to be rusty and worn, looking much older than his other two blades. However, the weapon looking very new as though it had just been forged not too long ago. The hilt was mainly black with red wrappings going around it, creating triangular shapes that primarily surrounded the four teal gems that adorned it. There was also a small white rope wrapping around it and the hilt's end was covered in a gold-colored piece. The blade itself also had its own design etched in, a long dragon with its body and tail curving going downward.

"Do you see anything?" Song asked him after a few moments of silence.

Kenshi said nothing as he reached a hand into the well, aiming for the weapon's hilt. A cold feeling came over that hand, but the young man ignored it as his palm hovered over the weapon. He took a moment to stretch his fingers before curling them around the handle, and then he slowly began to pull it out of the well.

Kenshi was just beginning to pull himself back as the tip of the blade exited the well. Suddenly, a bright green blast quickly emerged from the well and beamed itself right on the swordsman's face.

To Song, it was a few seconds. To Kenshi, it almost felt like an eternity.

Countless souls surrounded him from his point of view. He raised the sword he just claimed and attempted to slice them down, but it was to no avail as they anticipated the maneuver, moving themselves out of the way.

"What the-" he uttered.

It was then that one particular soul emerged forward. The others looked more like ghostly images. However, this one was solid and real. Its onyx eyes stared intently at him, and his green skin was mostly rotted off, revealing most of his ribs and the rest of his bones beyond that, its organs barely clinging on to him. It then grinned at him, revealing a row of yellow teeth and it raised its hands up, showing off long, sharp fingernails.

Kenshi attempted to raise the sword at the creature, but he suddenly felt paralyzed, unable to move. He then felt himself being lifted up, the tip of his toes barely touching the ground, and the demon hover high over him but still low enough to reach its hands to his face.

For the first time in years, fear came over the swordsman.

The creature's left hand rested on top of his forehead, and with its right hand, positioned its thumb and index finger over an eye. Before Kenshi could comprehend what was about to happen, the creature quickly stabbed both fingers into his eyes.

The sharp, sudden stab caused Kenshi to scream with pain and agony. The creature had only left its fingers in for a few seconds, blood pouring out from his eyes. Then, as though the creature was suddenly drawn away, it removed its fingers from his eyes before quickly departing. With that, Kenshi fell back to the ground, falling to his knees.

Kenshi saw nothing but darkness, still feeling the sheer pain that was inflicted on him. He reached his hands to his eyes, expecting them to not be there, but was surprised to realize that they still remained intact. It confused him, especially since he still felt the blood falling down his face from his eyelids like tears. He could still hear the crackling of the lit torch on the mantle nearby. The young man realized at that moment what had happened to him.

'_I… I'm blind!_' he yelled out in his mind, suddenly feeling panicked.

His hands reached out frantically. "Song!" he called out fearfully. "Song! Where are you?"

There was a few seconds of silence and, for a moment, Kenshi had wondered if the souls that emerged from the well had frightened the old man enough to kill him. It wouldn't have surprised him if that was the case.

Then, he heard a low, deep laugh not too far from him. Kenshi continued to move his arms around, his hands occasionally brushing against the stone of the well. "Song?" he asked again.

The laughing stopped and he heard slow, steady footsteps coming towards him. "Song does not exist," a male voice said to him, one that was much younger.

"What?" Kenshi called out, confused. "Who are you?"

The new voice did not hesitate at the question. "I am the sorcerer, Shang Tsung."

For a moment, Kenshi wondered why that name was familiar to him… only to remember the stories he had been told most of his life. An evil sorcerer, he was told, who had helped with running a tournament on his own private island every generation.

"To think," Kenshi began to say. "That you sought to find out if a legend existed… and yet you are a legend yourself."

"Ironic, isn't it," Shang Tsung said almost in a matter of fact. He looked at the young man's face, his cheeks stained with the blood that seeped from his eyes. The blue color that was once there was now nothing more than a ghost-like image that was barely seen. "It's a shame that you cannot _see_ the potential I possess."

Hearing the emphasis on the word 'see' made Kenshi angry. "You got what you wanted… to find out whether Sento exists. You can see the sword for yourself."

"That's not what I came for," Shang Tsung confessed. "It was _never _what I sought out. I was well aware of the souls that rested here along with Sento. I've lived long enough to know most of the story of this place. The Well of Souls was not named as so for nothing. What guarded those souls was the sword, which truly is an ancient artifact. However, there were… certain circumstances that had me require assistance from a mortal, particularly a young, arrogant swordsman. Convincing you that this sword would benefit you was much easier than I realized."

Kenshi quickly realized what he meant by that. "You knew there was a curse within this well. That's why you had me travel with you to this place!"

"Precisely. Now we both have been rewarded with what we came for. I now possess the souls which keep me alive… and you now have a weapon which now reflects your swordsmanship."

By then, Kenshi managed to get himself back on his feet. With a roar, he quickly moved forward, hoping to slam his fist into Shang Tsung's face, but he unknowingly ended up being a few feet off. However, he was still an arm's reach away, giving the sorcerer the opportunity to grab him by the shoulder before tossing him sideways, causing Kenshi to hit the wall back first. The muscles in his back were suddenly hit with pain as he slid back down to a sitting position on the floor.

"I must admit," Shang Tsung continued as he waved his hands in the air. The howling sound began to stir as he used his sorcery to create a portal. "I had imagined before coming here that the curse of the well would kill you. I did not expect you to become blinded. However, perhaps it will come to my advantage after all… I sincerely doubt that you could leave the labyrinth alive, not in your condition. Soon enough, you will meet death, and your corpse will join with the others in this place."

Kenshi clenched his teeth with rage. "I'll KILL you, you hear me?!" he screamed. "Blind or not, I WILL find you and end your life for your treachery!"

"You have only your pride to blame," Shang Tsung said. "Why do you think I chose you for this journey? You thought only of yourself and your supposed 'greatness,' not ever thinking of the possible consequences. Besides, you're not the only one who wants to hunt me down and finish me off. However, if you happen to get out of this labyrinth alive, I'd be very interested to see if a blind man could keep that promise."

Before Kenshi had a chance to say any more, Shang Tsung took the opportunity to jump through the portal he created. Upon going through it, the portal slowly dispersed, the howling noise becoming more distant until it disappeared altogether.

Then, there was silence, and Kenshi was alone and feeling powerless…

He then noted that he only heard his own rhythmic breathing, realizing that the torch that was used moments ago for light was no longer lit as he didn't hear any crackling sounds from its mantle. He leaned his head back against the stoned wall of the labyrinth, feeling cold from the lack of heat.

Thoughts began to run through his mind. '_Even if I did manage to get out of here, what good would it do? To be the best swordsman in the world was the only thing I lived for over the last few years. Now I'm blind… I can no longer live up to that…_'

As those thoughts left him, he almost became startled at the low, humming noise that began to form a few feet away. Then, to his surprise, he noticed a soft, blue glow coming from that same area. He turned to it and soon saw the katana he had pulled out of the well minutes ago floating towards him.

'_What? What's going on_?' he asked, wondering if he was going delirious.

"Kenshi," a voice whispered.

More confusion came over him. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Sento," it spoke in reply. "I am the sword in which you sought from the well. I wish to help you."

Kenshi grew frustrated at that. "The souls that came from that well were responsible for my blindness! What makes you think that I want your help?"

"Because it was he who had tricked you into opening the well," the sword said in reply, referring to the sorcerer. "He had used you so that he was not affected by the curse this well possessed. It was by the will of the creator of this magic that caused your blindness."

The weapon floated closer to him until it was an arm's reach away. "Take this sword. It is yours for the keeping."

Kenshi slowly shook his head. "I'm not deserving of such a sword. In my condition, I have no use for it."

"From this day forward, I will guide you," Sento promised. "I will grant you powers beyond that of an average fighter. You will fight as thought you could see once more. Also… this sword is your birthright."

That last sentence astonished Kenshi, not expecting to hear that. "My birthright?"

"The souls that had rested here are those of your ancestors. All have possessed this sword at some point in the years, leading them to many victories. I will help in your victories in the years to come, including that of the sorcerer if possible."

Kenshi stared at the glowing sword for a moment, trying to comprehend everything he had just heard. He was still feeling the pain from the curse and its aftermath. That made him soon realize something…

"You said you possess power," he said. "Why don't you restore my sight?"

The sword was silent for a moment before speaking more quietly. "I'm sorry… there's nothing I can do to reverse it. All I can do is guide you, if you'll let me."

Realizing that he had no other choice then, especially if he wanted to survive, Kenshi reached his hand out and grabbed for the hilt of the sword. Upon wrapping his fingers around it, he suddenly felt a surge of power within him, causing his body to jolt a little. The blue glow became brighter and the sword seemed to serve as some sort of light beacon.

He saw it like he was only thinking about it in his mind… he saw his surroundings, noting where the corners were. Despite feeling a bit weary, he began to leave the area in the hopes of getting back to the surface.

A half hour later, upon stepping outside, he felt what was almost like a rush of air as the wind swept over his face. Getting himself a few yards away from the altar, he collapsed onto his knees as he felt the pouring rain falling onto him, soaking him rapidly.

Taking the ancient sword, he dug the tip of it into the ground in a slight angle, gripping the hilt tightly with both hands as he leaned against it as though trying to keep himself from collapsing completely. He bowed his head down, by then noticing that he was trying to catch his breath after rushing out of there… or perhaps he was that relieved to have been able to escape the labyrinth alive despite losing his sight.

In his mind, Kenshi thought through all the events that occurred in the last few days. He also thought about what he had just learned from his newly obtained weapon, particularly his bloodline. Remembering that Shang Tsung had consumed those souls made him angrier than before.

It was no longer just about redeeming himself, and it was no longer about the pain and agony that he endured the moment he went blind. The sorcerer had also consumed the souls of his ancestors for his own gain.

'_I will free my ancestors,_' Kenshi vowed. '_And I will redeem myself, even if it takes me the rest of my life. I will use this very sword to end his life!_'


End file.
